


resetting the feminist movement

by crackers4jenn



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:54:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackers4jenn/pseuds/crackers4jenn
Summary: "Let me get this straight. You dressed like Britney Spears, just to... drive home a point Tyra Banks already teaches us every episode of her hit show,The Tyra Banks Show?"
Relationships: Annie Edison/Jeff Winger, Britta Perry/Jeff Winger, Troy Barnes/Britta Perry
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	resetting the feminist movement

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in 2011. There are vague hints of Jeff/Britta, Troy/Britta, and Jeff/Annie, but it's mostly a gen ensemble piece.

One obligated group meeting, Jeff arrives before Britta. Not a real cause for brow raising, but since he also plants himself down before even _Annie_ shows up, straight away he feels a dual stab of both pride and _every life regret ever_. 

Britta comes breezing in before his regrets have time to fester. Wearing, back the hell up now. A pleated school girl skirt and one of those too small, white button down shirts. Eyes mostly glued to her chest area (surprise: Jeff is a jerk), he is nearly shocked into appreciation when he does glance down and catches a fleeting, passing glimpse of knee high socks.

"Holyyyyy crap," Troy says, zeroing in pretty quick.

Britta points a stern finger as she slams her books to the table. It passes from Troy to Pierce to Jeff with only one instruction: "Don't." 

Pierce turns on Troy, chides, "How dare you? It's inappropriate to ogle."

Surprised and pleased, Britta sinks down into her chair with a lot of skirt-tugging self-awareness and says, genuinely grateful, "Wow. Thank you, Pierce."

But Pierce rambles on, a man in his element. "Lesbians of course can't stand male attention. Everyone knows that. Raises their unshaved hackles--"

"BRIT-TA," Shirley cuts in, all warning eyes at Pierce, but sweet, soothing motherly voice towards Britta. "What an _interesting_ outfit you're wearing. Is it for a school play?"

Jeff makes a face that says _I would so watch that play_ while Britta stews and prepares to launch into lecture mode, before she notices that Troy is still staring her down. She wraps her hands protectively in front of her chest and glares instead.

Half a second later, Annie comes in. Dressed, Jeff notices as she flutters past, his eyes automatically straying her way, head to toe in a cheerleading outfit. 

"HOLY CRAP," Troy repeats, but more worked up this time. 

Abed stares at the wall and murmurs, "Alternate universe territory."

Shirley, too, is avoiding looking at either Annie or Britta, too upset by all the uncovered skin.

"Hey, guys!" Annie greets with her usual pep and a friendly wave. There's a new shyness there that Jeff doesn't feel the least bit focused on or attracted to, that's _ridiculous_ , and also--say what? Of course he's not staring at her like a lecherous creep while she dips forward and shifts into her seat, all snug polyester fabric and a flippy skirt.

Shirley's rocking back and forth, shaking her head. "The Lord's testing me," she warns herself.

"Nice boobs, Big Boobs," laughs Pierce. He's gesturing towards her chest, too, where 'GREENDALE HUMAN BEINGS' is stretched really tight across her--well, you probably don't need specifics. 

"Okay," Jeff finally says, hands held up to ward off the influx of even more inappropriate comments. "We're all adults here. Some of us--" His gaze goes to Annie's, "more than others."

"Ho-ly crap," Troy says again, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Britta and Annie. "My whole brain right now is bathing in Hot Girl water."

Annie's mouth falls open, scandalized. Britta scoffs, then stands up and delivers what she'd been waiting for. 

"Ladies and horndogs, welcome to the harsh reality of male corruption."

"Here we go," drawls Jeff. 

"That's right. Here we go. Let me throw out a fact that may surprise you: men are creeps."

"Great. And here I was wondering."

"Sure, you say you appreciate us women for our brains, but do you? Do you really? Or do you appreciate us for your gross sexual fantasies?"

"I'm sorry," Pierce interrupts. "What's this have to do with boobs?"

"It's like I'm being rewarded for all those birthdays I never got to have," Troy marvels to himself.

Jeff leans back in his chair, keeps his eyes on Britta. Sure, he might let his line of sight slip down some, but the point is, no one would reprimand him for that. "Let me get this straight. You dressed like Britney Spears, just to... drive home a point Tyra Banks already teaches us every episode of her hit show, _The Tyra Banks Show_?"

"Actually," Annie says, meekly, "it's for our Women's Studies class."

"What?!" squawks Shirley. "Nuh-uh. I'd remember something like DRESS LIKE A JEZEBEL day."

Slumping back into her chair, Britta tugs at her skirt to (pointlessly) cover up more of her legs (not happening) and mumbles, "We may have loosely interpreted the original assignment."

Abed rustles through the endless information in his head and comes back out with the real task: "Portray a stereotype that resets the feminine movement."

Shirley's voice goes flat and hurt-sounding. "Oh. Well, I wore more make-up than I normally do."

Jeff starts smirking. Directs his judgment towards Annie, who seems to be second guessing her wardrobe now. "YOU went along with this?" he needles.

"It was a GOOD idea!" she defends. 

"In what reality exactly?"

Britta leans across the table. Jeff gets the breezy view of a hair-flip as well as the palm-side of a TALK TO THE HAND. "Whatever. Don't listen to him, Annie."

"Oh, yeah. You two teaming up to teach mankind a lesson. One question. Is this going to be as educational as your Save The Gulf demonstration?"

"Save the Gulf!" chirps Pierce. "More like, _Save the....!_ " He trails off with a slight wheeze. "What're we talking about?"

Annie makes a noise that is mostly offense, though it's half-hearted and done more out of protest that they might be spotlighting a failed diorama/fundraiser project than a moment of incredibly ironic oil wrestling.

"You're gross," Britta jabs at Jeff, but with a sneer that is threatening to turn into a smile.

"Real immature, Jeff," Annie joins in, with a haughty page flip of her Anthropology notes.

"Uncool," adds Troy, eyes still pinging back and forth between Britta and Annie. Then, in the very next breath: " _What_ are we talking about?"

"Hah!" goes Pierce. "That's what I said!"

That tugs Troy back into a harsh, dark reality. 

Abed points a vague finger Britta's way. "So, just to summarize. You're dressed like a naughty school girl and Annie's a cheerleader because of a purposely misinterpreted class assignment."

"It wasn't _misinterpreted_ ," Annie echoes back, but sarcastically. "We're making a point. A real one. I mean, one occurrence of Britta stripped of her usual leather jacket and knee high boots, and the intelligence in this room is seriously diminished. If," she airily says, "you know what I mean."

It's clear that they don't. 

Everyone gives off mixed reactions, verging from Jeff's non-reaction to a few confused _HEY!_ s to Pierce fist bumping air.

"Oh," laughs Troy. He quickly grows solemn. "I don't get it."

Britta gives it to him gently: "You're our friends, and we love you, but." Here her and Annie share a we're-more-empowered-than-you glance. "You're just as perverted as every other man on this campus."

"What?!" bellow both Jeff and Troy, though with slightly varying tones of manliness.

"Please," Annie accuses with an eye roll sent Troy's way. "You keep having conversations with Britta's chest."

"There are certain kinds of bounce-atility I am by nature drawn to," he defends, with a circular gesture across his chest that seems to imply: Boobs.

This gets a scoff from the ladies, Shirley included.

"Troy," Jeff laughs, with a paternal wisdom. He shakes his head, as if to say: _Troy, what you're thinking and what you're allowed to say you're thinking are two highly separate things. Especially when women are concerned. Let me guide you._

"Oh, right," drawls Britta, catching this. "Moral clarity from the guy who keeps eye-perving the nineteen-year old carrying pom-poms."

Jeff's gaze flicks over to Annie's. There are pom-poms?! Wait. No. What? Realizing he is only proving Britta right, and how HORRIBLE is that, he diverts his line of sight and loudly complains, "When did this become about us?!"

Troy asks, slightly worried, "Is this a SET-UP?" He looks around wildly. "Are there CAMERAS?!"

Pierce tosses in some grave accusation: "Ay-bed?"

"Nope, don't look at me."

Shirley cuts in with something heavy on her mind. "What I want to know is how come you two--" This is a catty gesture between Britta and Annie,"--keep pairing up without me. Sure, my skirts may be a little longer, my sweaters a tad looser, and you'd no sooner catch me sinning than wearing those boots that come up just below the knee, but I'm still a woman, dammit."

"Racists," chuckles Pierce to himself.

Britta makes a face translated as such: _oh shit!_ She glances at her watch-less wrist. "Holy crapola, would ya look at the time! Boy, is it that late already?" She stands, swipes her book off the table. "Wouldn't you know it, but I've got a prior engagement that requires me to--"

"Duck and run?" fills in Jeff in a nice sarcastic rumble.

She glares at the back of his head before waving to Shirley. "Catch ya on the hip side."

"Nice," calls out Jeff in his _No, those Ryan Seacrest jokes never get old_ voice.

Shirley settles her gaze on Annie. Expectantly. Jeff matches Shirley's look, if only because it's fun and he's bored and, well. Reason enough.

"Uhm! Britta's right. It's late. We've all got some place to be, I'm sure."

Proving her point, Troy gets up. Abed follows.

"Not that I in any way am one of those perverts Britta was talking about," Troy says, "But. I have to go stalk Britta."

"Cool," says Abed. "Me too. Later, guys."

Three seconds of silence follows their leave, broken only when Pierce shifts in his chair. 

"Guess that leaves only the four of--"

Jeff pushes out of his seat. Grabs his things. Gives a half-assed farewell, and bails.

"Three of us," he hears Pierce say. Then, in a more hurried voice, " _Two_."

The last thing Jeff hears before the library is but a fading memory is Pierce's low, dejected, "One of us left."

****

Jeff is pushing through the library exit when he feels this rustle of forward movement rush up at him from behind. It's Annie, and she follows. She doesn't even scold him, just grips her backpack straps and aims his way a hopeful expression. 

"Hey, Jeff. Got a second?"

"Sure. For the record, I'd make a Toni Basil joke right now, but I think that'd just depress us both."

"Who's he?"

Jeff holds out a hand to say: _Aaaand there it is._

She realizes this and gets to the point. "So! You wouldn't happen to have an extra sweater or jacket around, would you?"

"Annie. I deny the women of Greendale often enough the months December through February. I don't do sweaters prematurely."

Her face falls, though she tries to keep it brave. "Oh."

Then there's Star Burns, circled by a ring of slightly drugged douchebags. They start hassling Annie as the two of them pass, with dumb things like _Show me your pom-poms_ and cat calls. CAT CALLS. 

Annie gets extra prim. Her head tilts high and her shoulders go stiff as she sails past with a put on air of nonchalance. 

It's when Jeff gets an overly-excited thumbs up from Star Burns that he wraps a protective, guiding arm around Annie's shoulders.

"Allllllright," he says, and pushes them out towards the quad, in the opposite direction of their Anthropology class.

"Jeff, wait. What're you--?!"

"Did it ever cross your mind as your were going along with this _dumb idea_ that any message that comes with the Britta stamp of highly charged feminist approval might also carry the high probability of backfiring?"

"Uhm, no?"

"How did you not realize you'd register as the Greendale version of porn personified?"

She pulls away from him at this, with an angry glare that is more tantrum-y than anything.

"Maybe I _wanted_ to be looked at like that for a change. Maybe I'm tired of being the group's spinster!" With some crazy eyes, she closes in on him. "I don't need to be _censored_ , Jeff."

Unsure of where this is going, he plays it calmly. "Okay," he tries.

"I'm nineteen! If this was a hundred years ago? I'd be married by now! With kids! I'd probably be dead in a year from dysentery, but so flippin' what!" 

"That's your argument?"

"No? Maybe! _Yes._ " Then, annoyingly and intentionally vague: "Britta was right."

"Whatever she was right about," he tells her. "I don't actually care."

They've stopped by now, halfway to the parking lot where Jeff _was_ going to do the decent thing and provide some kind of large clothing cover-up. Given Annie's flip out, though, and how he feels like she is putting him through some kind of hell, ON PURPOSE, he's not feeling quite so generous any more.

Annie re-shifts her backpack, so that it hangs higher up her back. "Okay," she shrugs.

"Ugh. Why? What is the point of this? Seriously, you're acting like a three-year old."

Gone goes the _dumb_ act. Instead she looks triumphant, just shy of a victory leap. "A-ha!"

"'A-ha' _what_?"

"Admit it. You treat me like I'm some kinda freakishly gifted toddler. "

"Annie. That's crazy."

"I don't know, Jeff. Is it?"

"Uh, yeah. Look, I know I'm an Olympian repressor, but, what the hell. We _kissed_."

"So?"

" _Okay._ Why would I kiss you if I only saw you as--"

"Someone who's too fragile to handle a couple of sexist slurs from Star Burns?"

Point, but. "It's _Star Burns_ ," he defends.

"I can handle myself," she throws back.

He acknowledges this silently before saying, through his teeth, "Fine."

Her whole face changes. Her eyes get big and bright, a smile takes over. She nods, just once, like: there, they're all settled then. 

"Thank you," she says, a curtsy all but (ridiculously) included. "Now, about that sweater?"

Spoiler alert: it winds up looking way more scant on Annie than the cheerleader outfit. She does, though, get a passing grade in her Women's Studies class.


End file.
